Point of Intersection
by Boy Ampalaya
Summary: It certainly is a small world. Everyone is interconnected. Every little thing can lead to pivotal experiences. People just don't realize how intricate Life's web is. At a given time, we can all meet in one point... AU, collection of connected one-shots.
1. Live and Breathe

**Point of Intersection**

Chapter 1: Live and Breathe

Disclaimer: I don't own Gakuen Alice.

. . .

It was raining that day. It was raining when he saved her.

. . .

The two wound their way across the cemetery, heading for Sensei's grave. They had come upon her request…because, by some twist of fate, she had just encountered her daughter. She needed Sensei now.

Yuka looked up at the cloudy sky. She could hear the distant rumblings of thunder. It was going to rain.

It was raining when Sensei saved her from her dark life.

To think someone could love a thief like her—it freed her soul. She'd thought she was condemned to that kind of living; that she was born to be a criminal, that she was sentenced to die one. But Sensei changed her life.

But after Sensei's death, the gears got so out of control.

. . .

It was embarrassing, that first time she met him. She had been merely seven years old, scouring every possible household she could at the dead of the night, all in the name of food. She had successfully entered an apparently empty house, and made her way to the refrigerator.

"Aren't you a little bit too young to be thieving, little girl?"

Yuka yelped and bolted for the door, but the young man, probably in his late teens, easily picked her up. She thrashed and kicked, but his hold was too firm.

"Let go of me, you pervert!"

"Pervert?" laughed the young man, setting her down and blocking the doorway. "See here, kid, _you_ were the one scavenging around my kitchen, and _you_ have the nerve to call _me_ a pervert. Kids these days…" he shook his head and ruffled his already tousled ash-blonde hair.

"Well, what are you here for? I'm pretty sure you did not come here to steal my silverware," he continued, crossing his arms.

Yuka refused to answer, but her stomach growled for her.

The man laughed. "I see, you're hungry. Good thing I came down for some hot cocoa. Wanna have some?"

And with a carefree smile he offered the little girl his hand, and Yuka, wondering who on earth this strange man was, took it.

. . .

Shiki and Yuka continued to where Sensei was, passing by a young man and a nimble girl. They looked so alike: they had to be siblings.

The lass tucked a strand of raven hair behind her ear and arranged some flowers in front of a tombstone. The dark-haired boy was sitting on the grass, inspecting a silver necklace in his hand. With a thief's eye, Yuka knew it was an expensive piece of jewelry: sterling silver; the ruby in the pendant was genuine. And it seemed vaguely familiar…

She shook her head; everything brought nostalgia to her now. She must be getting old.

She never imagined her life to be like this: everything she ever wanted, everything she planned for since Sensei changed her life—everything was shattered the day he died.

. . .

The carefree young man she met was named Yukihira Izumi—and he was then studying Elementary Education. Yuka tried to imagine him as a teacher, but because she or any of her brothers and sisters had never been to school, she could not. She told him this as he walked her to the door, her rucksack now filled.

"What? You've never been to school? At all?"

Yuka blushed and nodded. Her family was poor, and her father was an unemployed drunkard. Yuka was the third among eight children, and this was how they coped.

Izumi clucked his tongue sympathetically and patted her head. "For such a young child like you to be dealing with these…I wish I could help you somehow,"

. . .

He did help her. In so many ways.

She and Izumi had become quite good friends a few years after their first meeting, and about four years after he graduated from college, he picked her up from her house.

After talking to Yuka's parents for quite a while, Izumi led the way to his car. Yuka jumped in.

"Where are we going, Sensei?" she asked earnestly. She had started calling him "Sensei" ever since he landed a job in the village school. She said she wanted to feel what it was like to have a teacher.

Sensei laughed, his eyes sparkling. "You'll see,"

It turned out he enrolled her to Middle School.

"I just wanted you to experience a normal life," he said, seemingly apologetic, as Yuka stayed silent, surveying the red-brick building that was to be her school in a few months.

"Sensei," the girl turned to her companion, her brown eyes sparkling with tears. "Thank you. I can't tell you how much,"

Sensei enveloped her in his arms. "You're welcome, Yuka."

. . .

But Middle School did not turn out as she expected.

She was shunned because of her known reputation as a thief and as the daughter of the village drunkard. Nobody would mingle with her, because of her appalling family. She was the constant object of gossip and ridicule because of the clothes she wore and how she acted.

She thought she was alone in a world surrounded by people. She thought she had no friends. She thought she was on her own.

. . .

Her drunken father was beating up her mother. Two of her siblings were caught stealing by the police. And she had been given a written warning by the school because she'd been seen fighting the classmates who taunted her.

And to top it off, it was raining buckets, and she had no umbrella.

"Yuka? You stupid girl, get out of the rain! You'll get sick!"

"Sensei?" It had been months since she heard his voice. She'd been so busy with school that she almost forgot him.

"Are you alright?" Izumi reached her side and sheltered her with his umbrella. When Yuka turned to face him, he cursed under his breath.

"What the _hell_ happened to you? You're bleeding, you're covered in bruises…" he swept her sodden bangs out of her eyes. "…and you've been crying," he realized.

"Yuka, tell me what's wrong,"

But she couldn't tell him. He'd worry and think that enrolling her to school was a bad idea. Yuka shook her head.

"Please, Yuka?" Sensei pleaded.

"Sensei, you're so kind," she blurted in reply. "I wish everybody was just like you,"

"Did you get into a fight again?" he asked, concerned.

Yuka shrugged. "I'm used to it,"

Sensei chuckled, but his worry marred his laughter. "You're a scary girl, Yuka-kun. Girls shouldn't get into fights."

"But if I let them beat me up, I'd end up like my mother," muttered Yuka.

"Point taken. But if you keep on fighting them, you won't have any friends,"

"Sensei," she rolled her eyes, "I'm used to having no friends. Everybody hates me,"

"Silly girl," laughed Sensei, kissing her forehead. "_I_ don't hate you,"

And despite herself, Yuka smiled.

. . .

"Sensei?" said Yuka one afternoon as they hung out at the village's elementary school. "What's your dream?"

Sensei grinned. "You."

Yuka laughed and shoved his shoulder. "I'm serious,"

He shrugged. "I guess I could say that I'm living my dream. I'm a teacher, I earn a good salary, I'm healthy as a horse…and I have you,"

Yuka blushed and turned away. She was not used to this kind of thing.

"Sensei…my dream…is just a small one. I want to graduate like Kaoru-senpai," she sighed, fingering a necklace given by her best friend. "And then build a small, happy family. It's a small dream, but to me, it's everything,"

"SENSEI! Subaru's picking on me again!" a blonde little boy interrupted them, bounding across the playground and attaching himself to one of Sensei's legs.

"I did not! Sensei, Shuichi started it!" his classmate protested, running after Shuichi, who stuck his tongue out at the black-haired bespectacled boy.

Shuichi looked up and noticed Yuka. "Sensei, who's that?"

"Oh," Sensei laughed at Yuka's reaction to being addressed like a thing. "Yuka, these two are Sakurano Shuichi and Imai Subaru, my students. Top students, but they don't get along too well."

"I can see that," Yuka muttered, watching as Shuichi made a grab for Subaru's eyeglasses.

"Knock it off, you two. This is your onee-chan, Yuka. Be nice to her, okay?"

Subaru ran to Yuka's side and clutched her hand, tugging her. "She's going to be MY onee-chan, not Shuichi's,"

Shuichi grabbed Yuka's leg, puffing his cheeks. "No, she's MY onee-chan!"

"Mine!"

"MINE! Four eyes!"

"Pretty boy!"

"Nerd!"

"Jerk!"

Yuka glanced at Sensei for help, but Sensei was laughing his head off. It was just a peaceful, golden day…

. . .

A flash of lightning—crashing thunder—screeching tires—glaring headlights—pouring rain—

"YUKA!"

"SENSEI!"

. . .

"It was an accident, Yuka. These kinds of things happen,"

Yuka shook her head. If only she had the sense not to go out in the rain…if only she had seen the oncoming truck…if only Sensei hadn't dropped by to visit her…if only he hadn't pushed her out of harm's way…if only—if only—

Sensei was killed saving her worthless life.

_Sensei…_

. . .

The wind blew fiercely as they reached Sensei's grave. A single drop fell, not from the sky, but from Yuka's eyes.

It was raining that day.

It was also raining now.

That day, Sensei's warmth was tangible, real. He saved her life in so many ways.

Now, she could do nothing but break down and cry.

. . .

They made their way back to the car despite the rain. Yuka spotted the siblings from earlier; they had taken refuge in the trees. The young man raised his head and observed them, brushing his wet black hair from his gleaming red eyes.

Suddenly, Yuka knew why the necklace seemed so familiar.

But why on earth did the boy have it?

. . .


	2. Your Voice

**Point of Intersection**

Chapter 2: Your Voice

Disclaimer: I don't own Gakuen Alice.

. . .

Hyuuga Aoi.

How he hated her.

. . .

"Hijiri-kun!"

How he hated it when she called him like that. He ignored her and kept on walking. The faster he could leave school, the better.

"Hijiri-kun, we were supposed to do our English project, remember?" She asked as she fell into step beside him.

How he hated it when she turned so persistent.

"So? Do it yourself. You're supposed to be smart," he scoffed.

"But, Hijiri-kun, Narumi-sensei said we should do it with our seatmates," Hyuuga Aoi looked at him with expectant ruby eyes.

How he hated those trusting eyes.

They were by the school gates now. He desperately wanted to shake her off.

"Look, Hyuuga, I need to go. I'm needed at home." _Downright lie, but who cares? _"Finish that project by your own or something, I don't care," he said, already sauntering away.

"We can still do it tomorrow and this weekend, Hijiri-kun! It's not due until Monday," she called after him.

How he hated that voice of hers.

He pretended not to hear her. She can be so damn annoying, that Hyuuga brat. And to think nearly every kid in the eighth grade—no, in the whole freaking _school_—seemed to adore her.

She makes him _sick_.

. . .

He lounged comfortably against the cafe's chair, waiting for the waiter to reach their table, while his friends goofed around. Idly, he noticed an older girl with short ebony hair sitting alone in a booth. The sight made him smirk. She was probably waiting for her boyfriend or something.

Girls were so stupid.

And speaking of stupid girls... damn that Hyuuga. Why did she follow him wherever he went?

She rapped the window with her knuckles, waving cheerfully at him. The other boys waved back. Disgusted, he glared at his companions then at the girl outside the window—but she had already entered the cafe.

"Hey, Aoi-chan," greeted one of the boys. Youichi rolled his eyes and groaned. They were really hopeless idiots. "Want to join us?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. Thank you for the offer, though," Aoi smiled sweetly at him.

How he hated that smile.

"Aw, why not, Aoi-chan?" inquired another.

"I'm meeting someone here, you see," she said shyly, tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear.

"Oh. Oh, okay. So we'll just...see you around, Aoi-chan," the boys waved good-bye to her as she walked towards the counter.

The boys converged. "Youichi! Is she going out with someone? Since you've been classmates for so long, you must _know_ something!"

Youichi coldly raised an eyebrow. _Idiots. _"I don't."

With his tone, his friends back-pedaled. And Hijiri Youichi can no longer stomach their pointless admiration. He roughly drew back his chair.

"I'm leaving,"

He pushed through the entrance, heading to no specific place; anywhere but here or his uncle's house—_anywhere_ but his uncle's house.

He hated that dark, manipulative younger brother of his father. He hated his father for leaving him in his uncle's care. He hated his mother for abandoning their family. He hated himself for not being able to do anything.

He did not care if his uncle was rich or influential. He did not care if he attended a prestigious school because of his uncle's money. He did not care if he got every expensive thing he desired. He did not want all those.

He just wanted his family back together.

. . .

Dinner at Persona's house was always deathly silent. Only the tinkling of knives and forks could be heard. The two inhabitants of the house never made an effort to talk over dinner. They sat at opposite ends of the long table, minding their own business, locked up in their own worlds.

"Youichi."

His insides turned to ice. The high, cold voice of his uncle was never heard unless he had something unpleasant to say. Youichi set down his fork and forced himself to meet Persona's black blank eyes.

"Yes, uncle?"

"I received a report from the Academy that you were caught skipping your classes three times," Persona said softly. "And that you are lagging behind in your lessons." Youichi shivered at his dangerous tone.

"I thought we have made our agreement quite clear. You cannot see your father again until you eradicate those delinquent habits of yours." Persona stood up and started for the door. "But like father, like son, I suppose."

Youichi was left at the dining table, stock still.

He'd never admit it, but Youichi was acutely frightened of his uncle.

. . .

And so, the next day, after school, Youichi found himself wasting a glorious Friday afternoon in the damned library with that damned Hyuuga Aoi, doing that damned English project.

It had been his last resort.

Aoi scribbled a book's title in her elegant script and handed the piece of paper to Youichi. "Can you please go look for this book, Hijiri-kun? We can use it as a reference material,"

"Quit calling me that," muttered Youichi, taking the slip of paper.

"Hm?" she was already picking random books from the shelves.

"I said quit calling me 'Hijiri-kun'," he started searching through the library's electronic card catalog. "It makes my ear prick,"

She carried three large volumes to their table and walked to his side, peering at the search engine's progress.

"What should I call you, then?" she asked brightly. Youichi shrugged.

"Youichi or whatever. I couldn't care less,"

She smiled brilliantly and nodded. "Youichi. Youichi…kun?"

He turned on her, annoyed. "What?"

She shrugged and giggled. "I just wanted to try it,"

Youichi shook his head in irritation. Hyuuga Aoi was a handful.

. . .

They had been working for a few hours now, and he cannot stand the silence. Hyuuga was usually a non-stop chatterbox.

He glanced around and saw a bouquet of wildflowers sticking out from Aoi's bag under the table. He wondered if someone had given it to her.

"Hey, what are the flowers for?" Youichi asked. Aoi's head snapped up from her notebook and she blushed.

"Flowers? What flowers? I don't know what you're talking about,"

"_Those _flowers in your bag, you idiot. Do you see any more flowers in this place?" he rolled his eyes.

"Oh. They're for someone," she said, smiling sadly, returning to her work.

_For someone? _"I thought you were smart," Youichi commented.

She looked up at him and cocked her head. "Why? Did I spell something wrong?" She immediately scanned her notes.

He snorted. "Not that, stupid. The flowers. Girls don't give flowers to guys, you know. He must be one feminine guy,"

To his surprise, Aoi giggled, shaking her head. "Youichi-kun, I won't give flowers to the guy I like. He'll just throw them in the nearest trash bin he can find. And he's quite manly, actually."

"So you _do_ like someone. I pity that guy," Youichi folded his hands behind his head and rocked back on two legs of his chair. She didn't seem to notice that he wasn't working at all.

Aoi smiled again and turned back to their project. "He's really nice, too, you know, once you got to know him,"

He scoffed. "Yeah, right. A nice guy who will throw away a bunch of flowers you'll give him. Very nice indeed. He must be an idiot."

He banged his chair back to original position, earning him a glare from the librarian. He merely scowled at her and turned his attention back to Aoi. She was watching him amusedly, red eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, he is an idiot," laughed Aoi. "A really huge one, as a matter of fact."

. . .

"Youichi-kun, I'm sorry, but can you take it up from here? I need to go now, you see," she said after awhile.

"We can still do it tomorrow, right? I need to go home now, too," Youichi just had no idea what the project was all about.

Aoi flashed him a smile distractedly, already packing up her things. "Well, then, can you take it home? Then you can add some bits to it and improve it,"

Like hell he will. He'll just tell her tomorrow that it already perfect and have her finish it. Then he'd have a worry-free weekend and Persona will be satisfied with his marks. Youichi nodded.

"Thanks, Youichi-kun! See you tomorrow!" she waved jovially as she skipped away. Youichi picked up their project and saw Aoi's notebook underneath.

_That scatter-brained little…_

He ran out the library, looking for her. But no one was in sight except for some teenagers playing one-on-one soccer in the field across the street. The sky overhead was darkening, a sure sign that it was going to rain any time soon.

"That idiot," he muttered, pacing up and down and agitatedly tossing her notebook from one hand to another. It slipped from his hands, falling open on the ground at his feet.

Youichi bent to pick it up, and found himself staring at his own name, beautifully embellished with hearts and flowers.

Before he could register what he was seeing, his phone rang. He hurriedly answered it, knowing who the caller was.

"Youichi-kun? This is Aoi. Um, I'm so sorry for calling, but I think I left my notebook back in the library—"

"Yeah, I have it right here." He said, picking up the notebook and stared at the page containing his name. The pieces clicked together. The afternoon flashed through his mind. He flipped the notebook shut.

_"Flowers? What flowers? I don't know what you're talking about,"_

_"Youichi-kun, I won't give flowers to the guy I like. He'll just throw them in the nearest trash bin he can find."_

_"A nice guy who will throw away a bunch of flowers you'll give him. Very nice indeed. He must be an idiot."_

_ "Yeah, he is an idiot. A really huge one, as a matter of fact."_

She was right. He really was an idiot.

"Do you want to pick it up now? There's this café near the school…" he said into the phone as thunder rolled in the background.

He heard the smile in her voice as she replied, "Okay then, Youichi-kun,"

How he hated Hyuuga Aoi for making him feel this way.

. . .


End file.
